


No Moon To Keep Her Armor Bright

by ruric



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Community: comment_fic, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-14
Updated: 2009-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-13 16:45:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/505615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruric/pseuds/ruric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's all gone to hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Moon To Keep Her Armor Bright

The smoke is clearing to the point where she can breathe. 

The stench of burnt rubber and plastic is heavy in the air and catches at the back of her throat but better that than the sweet smell of burning flesh. Her ears are still ringing from the deep boom of detonations and her vision’s off - too many blasts at too close quarters - but she’s still breathing, or at least she thinks she is. 

Not that she’d be willing to bet hard and fast on even that right now.

Legs stretched out in front of her, shoulders and head resting back against the bulkhead, even the metal’s warm to the touch. And if she believed in anything she’d offer a prayer to Athena or Hera – to keep the ship breathing, keep it flying. Galactica’s never let them down no matter what they’d put her through and Starbuck can’t....won’t believe that she’ll fail them now.

But she lost most of her faith a long time ago, and the remains of it fell away when she’d discovered the body down on Earth, when she’d seen the fear in Leoben’s eyes, seen him turn tail and run.

There’s not going to be anyone coming for them this time.

She squints across to where he’s sitting, smoke and grime making a death mask of his face, white trails left where tears have tracked though the muck.

“Helo?”

Her voice is a cracked ruin and he doesn’t even blink.

Takes more energy than she thinks she has left to crawl across to him, crawl ‘til she’s kneeling between his legs and she can peer into his face.

Harsh rattle of his breath is a warm puff against her cheek and she drops her gaze to his hands, soot blending with dried blood from where he’d tried to pull Athena’s body from the wreckage until she’d dragged him away.

Comm’s dead – nothing but static – and there’s been no word. They’re probably all gone, all lost.

Raising her head she looks at him and there’s nothing in his eyes but emptiness down to the blackness of his soul.

She’s never been one to give up but she’ll be frakked if she’ll die cold and alone – she’s done that once and she’s got no intention of doing it again.

Fingers closing into a fist she hauls back and punches him, catches him on the chin rocking his head back into the bulkhead with a dull thud. 

A spark of _something_ in his eyes and she follows through, fingers curling into his vest, leaning in to smash her mouth against his, teeth clicking together and she wants in.

His hands fumble, pushing her away but she scrambles back because in this she will not be denied.

Her fingers tug at his pants wanting to find skin, she ignores his cough and his curses, sinking her teeth into the soft hollow where neck meets shoulder. She barely hears his howl but his fist tightens in her hair ‘til her eyes are watering, bending her back until she thinks her neck is gonna snap.

None of it matters because it’s in his eyes, the helpless animal rage she recognizes, feeling it gnawing deep in her belly too.

“Good boy, Helo.”

He growls at her and she laughs, and if it sounds high and wild and broken she doesn’t care.

Fumbling together as material is shoved roughly down to their knees and his hands close tight on her hips. He lifts her until she can straddle him, her knee slamming down hard on the deck, and she doesn’t feel it cause the heat of him is so close.

Her hands circle his arms, ruin of her nails digging deep until she can feel the flex of muscle beneath. That’s movement and life - a body still working.

Sliding down onto him her teeth sink into her lip, blood metal sharp on her tongue and she doesn’t want gentleness or careful words. In a crazed part of her soul she wishes it was Leoben because, machine or not, he’d understand.

Fingers reaching through her like he’s trying to touch bone, teeth worrying at her breast and her body’s burning with their movements and the need to feel alive.

Her vision blurs and she sees them all - Helo, Leoben, Anders and Apollo. She doesn’t know where or _when_ she is and maybe she finally has gone mad. She doesn’t know and doesn’t care.

Her body’s finding what it needs, her mind is in freefall. 

One hand rises to cup the back of his head, there may be ashes and dust in their kiss but there’s life too.


End file.
